


Neon Dinosaurs

by type_40_consulting_detective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Anderson, Coffee Shops, Dinosaurs, Donuts, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/type_40_consulting_detective/pseuds/type_40_consulting_detective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip Anderson wanted to be a Paleontologist, be Criminal Forensics was a better paying field, and he had a wife to support. He also has a secret admirer that loves to leave him little, neon colored plastic dinosaurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neon Dinosaurs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Odamaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odamaki/gifts), [codenamelazarus (foxieswirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=codenamelazarus+%28foxieswirl%29).



> From a prompt by Odamaki, and written for the rare ship bingo. Oda asked me to gift it as well to codenamelazarus, so here you go darlings!
> 
> Fast and fantastic beta by merindab, though i fussed with it a bit after so any typos are all me.

The first appeared on his desk after a case where they had lost a fellow officer. A tiny green plastic Tyrannosaurus Rex, more a child’s plaything than any proper model like the ones he had at his house. Very few people knew about his collection, about the fact that’d he’d first wanted to be a paleontologist, then an archeologist before settling on Criminal forensics. The promise of more and better paying jobs won out over his passions when he was about to have a wife to support. The toy needed a name, and it was obviously Rex, Rex...Smith. Rex took up his place between Phillip’s monitor and mini kettle, and oversaw all the important report writing and the listened to the rants about the stuck up new consultant.

The second came when he and Maria had gotten the terrible news. He’d missed two days consoling her, and on the third there was a neon orange long necked dino that didn’t look like any one specific dinosaur, but a mix of all different kinds. The absurdity of it made him chuckle, his first time in days, and he made a spot for him next to the Rex. Alfie, Philip decided, Alfie Connors after this little shit of a snitch they’d met earlier that week. This new punk made Rex sneer, but they mutually ignored each other to keep the peace. They were very British dinosaurs, in that way.

The third, fourth, and fifth all came in the same day, his birthday, and he was starting to wonder if it was some kind of office joke. Two little raptors, from a jurassic park set, probably owned for years or bought at a charity shop. And a stuffed Triceratops, all squishy from it’s fiberfill. He had a textured fabric like snake skin. The little ones were clearly young twins, Mike and Molly for his younger siblings. The big, scary but soft one was a delicate shade of grey that was so familiar, and he had to call him Greg. Atl least he never spoke out loud to them, not where anyone else could hear it. No one needed to know about his feelings for his married DI.

Sally gave him a few during their time together, and they joined the ranks that were overtaking the right side of his desk top, but they were always perfect little scale models from the museum or found online. They were good, but it didn’t make his heart leap like the discovery of a new awful little dino on his keyboard, in some obscene color and indistinct species. Several were clearly from pence vending machines that children loved so much. Every one of those got a distinct name and a carefully chosen place in the group, with those they would get on best with.

Then came the suicide of a _fake_ Genius.

Or was it the _fake_ suicide of a Genius.

No one but Lestrade listened to his theories. Sally left, Maria left. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop trying to figure out how it had been done. It had to be that, though. Sherlock was too smart to waste his brains on the pavement.

Shifty side looks and visits to the staff psych didn’t dim his resolve, and soon enough he was packing up his desk and moving on from the Yard; his job since graduation. He swept everything off his desk into a box in a fit of anger and dumped each drawer in on top. it’s wasn’t until the next day, searching through it to set his dinos up at home, that he found the small box and it’s note tucked inside, typed out on A4.

 

_**I know you’ve had a terrible time of it. It’s not much, but come have coffee with me. Bean and Book near your flat, 10 am Friday. At least come collect the darling that came in this box.** _

It was 9:45. He hurried into a jumper and jeans, grabbed phone keys and wallet. At the last second, he decided to bring the empty dino box, but left the note on his desk.

Sitting at an abandoned table, there were two cups of coffee, two cake doughnuts with white glaze, and a little purple dino that would just fit inside the empty package. He wasn’t thinking, just stepped forward and picked it up. It’s was the most absurd of all the ones he’d ever received, a rubber one that came apart in pieces and looked only vaguely like a pteranodon, a little bigger than his palm. It was the best thing he’d seen all week by far. He chuckled at the toy when he heard a familiar voice.

“Thought that might cheer you. Don’t know why you love the horrible ones when you’ve got proper models, though.”

Greg sat down, taking a sip from one coffee cup. bit of Philip's heart sank. He’d been hoping for an admirer, honestly, but this was good too. At least it was coffee and a sympathetic ear.

“Has it been you all along?”

“Mostly. Not hard to find the ridiculous little things, in pound shops and the toy aisles. And it cheered you up.” Greg smiled at him and took another sip. Something warm passed his eyes, but Philip looked away.

“Twenty seven dinosaurs. Twenty eight, now.” Philip stared into his cup, thinking. Something is off, but he’s used to reading too much into things, and this is just another one of them.

“Twenty-six. Two were from Donna, before she moved offices. The two little green rubbers, I think.”

“Twenty-six then. And you never said anything?” Phillip fiddled with the toy rather than eating, taking it apart into all it’s small bits.

“Didn’t want to give you the wrong impressions.” Greg’s voice was gentle, almost resigned.

“And this one, in person at a coffee shop? If I didn’t know better…” Phillip bit his lip.

“Yeah. Might not see you much, after this,” Greg leaned back. ”And I’m not your boss anymore.” Greg stared off into the distance, at the people passing the shop window, and adds. “And I’m not married anymore, officially.”

Phillip stuck the wing back on the dinosaur, debating his words before asking. “Dinner, later? I make good lasagna.”

  
“Dinner sounds good. I’ll bring some wine.”


End file.
